Heart Beats
by Gentle Breezes
Summary: "Mom? Why does your heart make that sound?" "Because it hears yours and is saying I love you." "Dad? Why does your heart make that sound?" "Because it's the only thing keeping me alive." How does a parent answer a four-year-old's question about hearts?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I did not make Treasure Planet, nor do I own the rights to it. All I own is a copy of the movie and the fanfics I've made for it. *snort*

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><p>The weather of Montressor was calm this evening, the wind gently blowing across the landscape and lulling the residents on the ground into a sense of peace. In the living room of the Hawkins household, young Jim Hawkins was waiting for his mother to read a story to him.<p>

"Which one would you like?" she asked, handing him a small basket of books.

The four-year-old furrowed his eyebrows as he dug through them with his small hands, then grinned. "This one!"

Mrs. Hawkins picked up her son and placed him in her lap, then took the book. "Jim, this is the one about Captain Flint!"

"Mhm!" he said, nodding a few times. "It's my favorite!"

"You've already read it so many times!" she said with a laugh. "Won't you get tired of it?"

"Of course not!" he said in disbelief, as if the mere thought was mind-boggling.

She chuckled, shaking her head before sighing in surrender. "Alright Jim, we'll read about Captain Flint." Then she noticed that her son had his ear practically glued to the area near her left shoulder. "...Jim? Is something wrong?"

He didn't speak for a moment, but finally looked up at her with a confused look "What's that sound?" he asked. "It sounds like a drum!"

"That's my heart," Mrs. Hawkins said as she held her son close, fingering with the pages of the book to find a good place to start.

"Why does it do that? Why does it make that ba-bump, ba-bump sound?" he asked, looking up at her with extreme curiosity.

"Because it hears yours," she said with a warm smile. "It hears yours and wants to talk to it."

"What's it saying?" the boy asked, his eyes twinkling.

"It can say many things," she said with a warm smile. "But right now, my heart is telling yours 'I love you'."

The little boy grinned up at his mother, then hugged her and listened to her heart as she continued her story.

Later that evening, he found his father sitting in their study. He was sitting in his enormous chair, reading over the paper with a pensive look. The little boy bit his lip in hesitation at seeing the huge man who, despite being his father, still looked a little intimidating. But then he drew back his small shoulders and walked forward, stopping to stand in front of his father.

Mr. Hawkins peeked over his paper for a moment before speaking. "What is it Jim," he said matter-of-factly.

Jim kept his fists clenched in determination. "...Can I sit with you?"

The man stayed silent for a moment, then drew back his paper on his left to let the boy through. Jim beamed before clambering onto his dad's lap, focusing his eyes on the black ink and paper stained with yellow light from the nearby fireplace. After a moment of silence, he clumsily knelt on one of this father's legs and put his ear to his father's giant chest.

"Jim, what are you doing?" the man asked in exasperation, holding his arms up a little.

"Hold still!" Jim said, putting his tiny hands against his father and squinting his eyes as he listened closely. And then his eyes widened in surprise. "Dad, your heart sounds so loud!"

"Er...I suppose so," the man said, blinking a little as Jim sat back on his father's lap.

Jim smiled up at his dad. "Dad, do you know why your heart does that?" he asked, half-hoping his dad would say what his mother had, and half-waiting to tell him what his mother had said.

"Well," the man began, Jim clutching his shirt in anticipation, "I guess it's because I'm a bigger person."

"Yeah?" Jim said, still waiting with a smile.

"And...well..." The man trailed off, scratching his head. He didn't know what his son was expecting. Maybe the boy wanted a detailed scientific explanation? "I guess the reason that happens is because it's the only thing working to keep my body alive."

Jim's shoulders slouched. "...That's it?"

"Hm?"

"But what about when it hears other hearts?" he asked.

"Jim, hearts don't hear each other. They work by themselves to keep each person alive, but they never hear each other. Hearts don't have ears and hands like human beings do, do they?"

"No, they don't," Jim said softly.

"My heart listening to other ones isn't possible. It just beats to pump blood through my body."

Jim sighed a little in disappointment, looking away. "Oh..."

"Why are you disappointed? That is what a heart does, Jim."

"I guess," he said, slowly sliding off his dad's lap. "...I'll go and see if mom's done with dinner."

"Uh...okay." The older man watched his son drag his feet toward the doorway. His eyebrows briefly scrunched in confusion. He didn't know what his son had wanted, nor could he guess. It was so hard to figure out what went on in that boy's mind sometimes.

A small part of him argued that maybe he should've let his son speak instead of running over what he might have said. Something in the boy's eyes had been different from other times, as if he had been asking for something to believe in or hope for. But then he reassured himself that his son was getting to be a big boy, and that he had to learn to speak up for himself and learn how things really worked. He might as well find out now instead of later. The universe didn't run on fairytales.

As he watched his son round the corner to walk into the hallway, he caught a glimpse of the boy's face. It was distorted with confusion. And hurt. A momentary pang of guilt he could not explain shot through the area in the left section of his chest.

And then he went back to reading the paper, reaffirming his previous opinion. His son would have to learn, and this wouldn't be the last time. He stretched out the paper a little more. "...Hearts hearing each other indeed," he muttered.

The pang still lingered.

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><p><strong>AN: **Hmm, I don't usually do angsty things. Seems I've got a small angst barnacle stuck on my fanfic muse, because I've been writing/semi-posting some slightly angsty things of late. But, I am greatly debating on whether to add a second part of this or not. Actually, I kind of have a second part to this already written, which involves our dear spacer and his little son, and it is much happier than this part.

Well, if you'd like to see aforementioned second part, let me know! And if not, I'll just leave this up here. (...Who are we kidding; I'll probably post the second part regardless. 8D)

Your reviews are treasured and appreciated! Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**I do not own the rights to Treasure Planet; Disney does. I just own a copy of the movie, which I am very happy to have.

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><p>Evenings on Montressor were always Jim's favorite time. Though usually too dark to fly outside in peace, it was one of the calmest times during the hours he was awake. He enjoyed the silence that it brought, easing his mind of the worries and stresses his job as a captain brought. That, and he could be at home with his family.<p>

At this moment he was reading the newspaper, though doing so aimlessly. In reality he's never understood how men could be so absorbed with the newspaper that they devoted more than an hour to it, ignoring all else with an air of importance as they flipped through the large, thin pages. Headlines about recent discoveries and how this invention or that made your life easier were skimmed over, then exchanged for the next bit of information. He usually got more out of wandering through the ports and people he knew than these voiceless sheets of paper. His attention wandered to the window next to him, the glowing spaceport visible along with a few stars. He sighed, smiling a bit. It would be nice to go visit the spaceport at night like he used to, but he did have responsibilities down here, and he would rather take care of his family than just gallivant around the port for the heck of it.

"Dad?"

Jim blinked in surprise as his attention was brought back with the sound of a young voice. He peered over the paper in his hands, and found that his little five-year-old son standing in front of him. The boy looked a little…nervous. Jim sat up immediately, eyebrows furrowed mildly with concern. "Is something wrong?" he asked, all ears.

"...Can I sit with you?"

Jim grinned. "Of course you can. Come here." The little boy walked over to him, and Jim picked up his son as if he weighed nothing, placing him gently in his lap amidst the little one's giggles. Then he picked up his newspaper again and held it out in front of them so they could both read. This was probably one of the only reasons he kept the newspaper around so frequently; his son would often sit in his lap and read with him.

After a few moments, the little boy squirmed. "What is it?" he asked. He watched as his son knelt and put an ear to his chest. His eyes widened as the little boy smiled.

"Dad! Your heart sounds so loud! Why is that?"

Jim's voice caught in his throat. He couldn't answer immediately. He remembered that when he was about his son's age, he'd done this with his father. Although he couldn't excuse his father's behavior toward him and his mother, he understood what it meant to be a father now. He knew what it was like to wake up each day and think about how his little boy was growing older, and would one day have to face a universe that wasn't all fairytales. Sometimes he thought it would be better just to wake his son up from the whole thing ahead of time so he wouldn't get hurt later.

But...

There were times and places for everything. Right now, his son didn't need a drill sergeant or a wake-up call. He just needed his daddy.

So Jim smiled and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "That is the sound of my heart talking to yours..."

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><p><strong>AN: **I did not want to leave this story hanging, just because I don't like doing a lot of sad stuff. So here's a continuation.

Your critiques and feedback are appreciated. I know this story isn't canonical in the first place, but this second part stretches more into the unknown, so what you have to say is extremely important to me. ^U^


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